


Don't tell me you don't realise what you did (Day 26 - Abandoned)

by broken_fannibal



Series: Whumptober 2019 [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (its not that much but I feel like it has to be mentioned), Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Crying, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hugs, Lack of Communication, M/M, Miscommunication, Overthinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 11:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21196940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_fannibal/pseuds/broken_fannibal
Summary: Aziraphale gets more and more worried that Crowley will expect them to have sex cause as far as he knows that normal in a relationship. He spirals into anxiety to the point he's hyper-vigilant of every little touch.





	1. Chapter 1

Late at night, Aziraphale sat on the couch in the bookshop, reading a book.

Crowley had just sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Now he shuffled closer and draped himself over Aziraphale's lap as he often did.

When he tensed all of a sudden, Crowley pulled back. 

There was an expression close to panic on Aziraphale’s face.

"Angel? What's wrong?"

Aziraphale averted his eyes, hiding his face behind the book he had been reading.

"Aziraphale, talk to me..." he leaned closer, tried to get a look at his face.

After a few more minutes of silence, he gently pried the book from Aziraphale’s grasp.

“What happened just now?”

Aziraphale bit his lip, his eyes downcast. “You- you were so close all of a sudden...”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn't notice.” He slowly moved his hand to rest on Aziraphale’s thigh, trying to reassure him.

A small hum.

Crowley had absentmindedly started stroking Aziraphale’s thigh. Now he felt him tense under his touch. He stilled. And slowly looked up. Aziraphale still looked tense, his shoulders rigid, his face uncharacteristically empty.

He drew his hand away. “That wasn't the truth was it?” he asked quietly.

Aziraphale winced. “No...”

“So... it's my touch? Me touching you that makes you uncomfortable?” He shuffled back. Away from Aziraphale to the other end of the couch.

Aziraphale’s expression only grew sadder.

“You could've just said you know?” Hurt mixed into his voice. He couldn't help it.

Aziraphale remained quiet.

Crowley's heart started beating faster, hammering painfully against his ribcage. What had changed that Aziraphale suddenly couldn't stand his touch anymore? What had he done wrong?

With a sigh, Crowley picked up his sunglasses. He shifted, unsure if he was welcome to stay. Eventually, he got up, too much restless energy building up.

"Wait!"

He stilled and turned back around.

Aziraphale sat at the edge of the couch now. “I will explain," he said, hands wrung together. 

Crowley frowned but stayed where he was.

He sighed, staring at the floor. It took a while until he had gathered the courage to talk. “I....” another deep sigh. “I don't know how to explain this... how to make sense of this...”

Crowley waited, listening.

“It is your touch. But.... it also isn't. Not quite. I don't want... I don't want us to be intimate.”

Crowley felt as if he had been slapped. The ground disappeared beneath his feet. A sharp pain ripped through his chest.

Aziraphale didn't want them to be intimate. A fancy way to say he didn't want to be touched. Not by him. Not by a demon.

Of course. Why was he even surprised? He had been a fool to get his hopes up, hadn't he? 6000 years of what he thought had been friendship... they just didn't seem to mean anything anymore...

“ 's okay.” he forced the words out, fighting to keep his voice from hitching, to keep the tears from spilling. He was glad Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes.

He turned on his heel and left. But where to go? His flat? A pub? A park?

He walked aimlessly, completely forgetting about the Bentley parked just around the corner of the bookshop.

Aziraphale watched Crowley walk out. He hadn't expected Crowley to just... leave.

Complain about it, sure. Make comments and tease him, yes. But to just... walk away? Like 6000 years of friendship meant nothing... Like their newfound relationship meant nothing...

He slumped back into the cushions.

If he had just been able to control his reactions better... If he had been better at pretending... then this wouldn't have happened. Then Crowley would still be here with him...

His vision grew blurry as tears rose in his eyes. He wiped them away. But they just kept coming. He was powerless to stop them.

Pain crawled up his body, closing around his throat.

He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around himself, raw pain burning in his chest.

He suddenly felt so alone. Without Crowley, there was no one left... Heaven didn't understand him, he didn't fit in there. Even among humans, it wasn't quite right. There was always a layer of deceit. By default. But around Crowley... around Crowley, he had gotten comfortable. They had known each other for so long and after averting the apocalypse together, they had gotten even closer.

And now Crowley had turned his back on him. He’d driven him away.

He was alone. Abandoned.

  
  


Crowley sat at the very back of the bar. Six empty glasses of whiskey in front of him.

In retrospect, he should've just asked for a whole bottle.

He felt as alone as he hadn't.... well, as alone as he hadn't ever since he had gotten to know Aziraphale.

Damn it, even  _ thinking _ his name sent a fresh wave of pain through him.

What was there to do? What was left?

He downed another glass in one go.

Nothing was left. He was completely on his own now.

For a while, he had thought- hoped- that they could start a new life. Together. No side but their own, no obligations to worry about.

But something must have changed Aziraphale’s mind. Had it been an illusion? A foul game, tricking him into believing Aziraphale cared about him, the way he did?

In the end, it didn't matter what had happened, did it? In the end, it meant he was alone. Again.

That he had been abandoned and kicked out.

  
  


Aziraphale picked up the book again. He tried to read it. Tried to concentrate on the words. Tried to get absorbed by the story to forget what had happened. But tears still streamed down his cheeks.

He couldn't stop the moment Crowley had just turned on his heel from playing over and over again in his mind.

In all the years they had known each other he had never once noticed Crowley seeking that kind of intimacy from anyone. So why was it that he left without another word? It didn't seem like him... Then again... Maybe he'd been hoping to do it soon. Maybe even tonight. And that was why he had been especially affectionate over the last week. Aziraphale shuddered, discomfort twisted inside his belly.

Apparently he had not known Crowley as well as he had thought...

He gave up, setting the book down and staring at his trembling hands. He took a deep breath and slowly got up.

He went to get his coat and decided to go for a walk. Maybe that and the cool night air would help distract him. At least a little.

It probably wouldn't.

But it was worth a try, right?

As he was walking through the park, he saw a slumped figure between two benches. He came closer, intending to help the homeless person up, to help them find shelter.

He smelled the stench of too much alcohol. Way too much alcohol for any human to consume without serious health risks.

He pulled at the person's shoulder. They rolled onto their back, a bottle clutched in their hand.

No... His heart lept painfully.

It was Crowley...

Tears rose in his eyes again, but he blinked them away.

He tapped Crowley’s shoulder.

No reaction.

He got up, tried to think of what to do.

Then Crowley made a vague noise. His face scrunched up. His lips moved but Aziraphale couldn't hear what he was saying. He frowned, trying to decipher the words. If they had been words at all.

Abruptly Crowley turned his face away and slowly got up. The bottle slipped from his grip. But he didn't stop to pick it up. He just staggered away.

The way Aziraphale had looked at him... cold, calculating. It had hurt so much. Just another stab in the back. Just another stab into his already bleeding heart.

Crowley would have cried if he had any tears left.

But he didn't.

So he started walking even though his limbs protested with every step he took.

He just needed to get away. Away from Aziraphale. Away from the person who didn't care about him anymore.

His foot caught on something and he tripped. He could feel himself falling but he didn't have it in him to catch himself. His body hit the ground. Sharp pain exploded in his head and at his hip. But he didn't care. It was night, it would be hours yet until the first people would come to the park.

He had time. His eyes slipped shut and darkness overtook him.

Aziraphale watched him leave with a painful pull in his chest.

Every beat of his heart hurt. Every breath he took burned as Crowley walked further away.

It was over. He would never get to see Crowley again. He would never get to hear Crowley again. Would never get to spend time with him again. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

The skinny figure- Crowley- wavered off the path. What was he doing? Why was he going towards the pond? There weren't any ducks out at this time of the night.

Then he stumbled. And fell. His body hit the ground like dead weight. He didn't even try to get up.

Before he could stop himself, Aziraphale had started running. He dropped down next to Crowley. Turned him onto his back, said his name, shook his shoulder.

But he got no reaction.

Just a limp, cold body in his arms.

New tears ran down his cheeks, wetting the crusted paths of his earlier tears. He pressed his face into Crowley’s chest. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

He didn't even really know why. But everything hurt too much and he was helpless to stop himself.

Several minutes later as his sobs had died down, he felt how cold Crowley’s was.

That combined with the amount of alcohol he had no doubt consumed made Aziraphale realised he had to bring Crowley somewhere warm and safe.

So he took deep breaths and wiped his cheeks dry. The fabric of his shirt felt rough against his heated, puffy skin.

Then he took Crowley back to the bookshop. He carried him upstairs and tucked him into bed.

He stood there for a while, watching, waiting. Until he realised that he shouldn't. He should just let Crowley rest here and then let him go on his way when he woke up.

In fact, it might be best if he wasn't even there when Crowley woke up.

With a heavy heart, he slowly went down the stairs.

  
  
  


He had been so focused on a book he had newly acquired that he didn't hear Crowley until he was already on his way down the stairs.

“Aziraphale?”

He tensed and dropped everything when he heard his name being called and raced to get his coat.

Crowley stood at the bottom of the stairs. He had just called Aziraphale's name when he heard the urgent shuffle.

Then he saw Aziraphale practically run towards the door, grab his coat and hurry out the bookshop without even sparing a glance.

His legs gave out under him and he fell down the last few steps.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep going on like this. He couldn't deal with avoidance. He couldn't deal with Aziraphale not even  _ bothering  _ to look at him. Not even  _ wanting  _ to look at him.

He curled up, hugging his knees to his chest. And he cried. And he cried. And he cried.

He couldn't stop the pain. He couldn't stop the tears. It was all too much.

  
  


Three hours later, Aziraphale went back to the bookshop. He figured he had given Crowley enough time to take any of his belongings that might still be in the bookshop and leave.

He opened the door, hung up his coat and was on his way to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Another task to keep his mind busy.

However, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the dark figure curled up at the bottom of the stairs. Shoulders shaking violently. Quiet, dry sobs escaping his throat.

Crowley?

What was he still doing here? Why was he crying?

Slowly, Aziraphale walked over to him. He stood there for a while, looking down at him. He couldn't figure out why Crowley would be miserable.

He kneeled down and could just keep himself from touching his shoulder. “Why are you still here?” he asked quietly.

Crowley jumped. His head whipped around.

Immediately his expression became guarded. He opened his mouth. But no words came out.

“Why are you crying?”

“Tch.” Crowley made a dismissive noise. “Why do you think?” he spat. His head dropped back on the floor.

“I don't know. That's why I’m asking you.”

Now Crowley  _ glared  _ at him. It was the kind of glare that would even send most demons running. “Don't tell me you don't know. That you don't realissse what you did...” he hissed. His voice was like venom, the accusation sharp in his tone.

Aziraphale frowned, getting more and more confused by the second. “What I did? What do you mean?”

Crowley’s expression fell. He looked utterly crushed.

It scared Aziraphale. His heart dropped. He had never seen Crowley like this. Not in the entire time they had known each other.

Crowley just collapsed again. He curled up and stared into nothing.

"Why won't y-"

“If you can't even pretend you’re ssssorry then why don't you just sssay nothing at all? Why don't you just leave me alone?” he shouted. “No actually...” his voice hitched. “Do me one last favour... Pour some holy water over me so I don't have to deal with thissss anymore.”

“Crowley!” he couldn't keep the shock and outrage out of his voice.

Why would Crowley want to die? Why was he- oh.

Oh.

Oh no...

Everything seemed to stand still for a moment as Aziraphale understood.

Well, fuck. All this had been a giant misunderstanding, hadn't it?

Fear ran down his back, ice cold. Would they ever be able to fix this? Would they ever be able to go back to being friends?

“Crowley... look at me,” he said softly.

No reaction.

He sighed and pushed Crowley onto his back, holding him down so he couldn't turn away again, pinning him in place and taking his face in his hands. He turned it so he was forced to look at Aziraphale.

“Open your eyes.”

“Nghhhh”

“Open them,” he said, voice commanding.

And reluctantly, Crowley did.

Aziraphale was overwhelmed by all the hurt, all the pain in Crowley’s expression.

Tears rose in his eyes, his heart ached. He closed his eyes for a moment, a few tears ran down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that some of them had dripped onto Crowley’s face. He gently wiped them away.

He took a shaking breath. “When I said.... when I said last night that I didn't want to be intimate with you I didn't mean... I... well... I didn't mean what you clearly thought I did... I meant that I don't want-” he broke off. Suddenly insecure again.

“Tell me,” Crowley demanded, voice rough and broken. Barely louder than a whisper.

“I don't want...” His hands shifted, he suddenly became very aware of how close they were. His hands on either side of Crowley’s head. He had even straddled Crowley’s waist to keep him in place. He started to pull away, too self-conscious about his position.

But Crowley grabbed his wrists, held onto them.

Now Aziraphale was trapped, kneeling over Crowley. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don't want sex,” he whispered.

Crowley blinked. His grip on Aziraphale's wrists loosened.

He feared Crowley would pull away again. Push him off and leave for good. When he opened his eyes it was just in time to see Crowley’s expression morph from surprise and hurt to disbelief to anger.

He stared up at Aziraphale, face distorted with a frown, teeth bared. “And you thought that wassss a good reason to push me away? To make me believe you didn't lo- that you didn't care about me anymore?”

Aziraphale’s heart fell. For a second there he had dared to hope that explaining their misunderstanding would fix this. That whatever kind of relationship they had, was strong enough to survive this.

“Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me? Did you think I would abandon you? A- tchk." he took a shaking breath. "After all these years, decades, centuriesss! I thought you knew you could trust me! Even though I'm a demon!” There was anger in his voice. But more and more hurt mixed into it.

Aziraphale's eyes widened a little. Even though he barely ever let it show, Crowley was just as insecure as he was, wasn't he? So there was hope for them after all?

Crowley reached out, one hand slid up Aziraphale’s arm, cupped his face and caressed his cheek.

“Why don't you trust me?” his voice was a little softer, laced with hurt, almost vulnerable.

Aziraphale bit his lip and looked away. He didn't know how to answer this. Why had it taken so little for him to lose trust?

He was torn from his thoughts when Crowley's thighs pulled up, bracing against Aziraphale's back.

Crowley surged up to look at him.

Aziraphale felt himself sliding into Crowley’s lap as legs pushed against his back. “I’m not sure.”

Crowley was so close, still holding onto one of his hands, the other hand now curling around Aziraphale’s head. So tender. So gentle.

“Why did you just leave like that?” he whispered. “Why didn't you ask for clarification?”

“It seemed like you had made yourself quite clear. You said you didn't want to be intimate with me. Which, to me, meant you didn't want to be touched by me.”

Aziraphale frowned. He leaned in a little.

Crowley closed the gap between them and rested their foreheads together.

Aziraphale sighed. “We’re both idiots, aren't we? Misunderstanding each other like this?” He couldn't help it, he chuckled quietly.

“Yes, angel. Yes, we are.”

He leaned even closer and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s bony shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

And in turn, Crowley’s arms wrapped around him, closing the barely existant gap between them. “I’m sorry, too.”

They stayed like that for several minutes. Holding each other and finding comfort in the other’s touch.

Then Crowley spoke: “I love you,” he mumbled into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned back a little. But Crowley wouldn't look up. “Do you mean that? Even after... what I said about sex?”

“Yes.” he sounded absolutely certain. “Just... tell me if you feel the same?” his voice was muffled by the fabric of Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

“I do,” he said quietly, carefully.

“Mhnnnn” Crowley’s arms wrapped tighter around him and nuzzled into his chest.

Aziraphale could see a faint blush at the tips of his ears. He smiled and buried his face in Crowley’s hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little fluffy epilogue

They sat on the couch together that night. Crowley's feet in his lap while he read a book.

Silence had settled comfortably around them.

Aziraphale felt a small twitch in Crowley's legs just before he spoke.

“I don't need to have sex, you know?”

“Oh?” Aziraphale perked up.

Crowley had raised his head from its place on the armrest. "We don't have to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Aziraphale blinked. "But doesn't that make us only friends again?"

Crowley frowned. "Why would it? If we both... love each other then it doesn't matter if we have sex or not."

"Hmm... but I thought... from what I've heard... " he went quiet.

Crowley waited patiently.

"I thought it was mandatory."

"To have sex?" Crowley looked at him with raised eyebrows

"Yes."

"Times are changing."

Aziraphale cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"There are people like you, like us. People who don't want sex or don't particularly care about it."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up. He set his book aside. "Really?"

"Hmhm." Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale absent-mindedly played with the hem of Crowley's trouser leg. "How did you find out about that?"

"Just something I heard," he said, clipped. He wasn't going to tell Aziraphale just how deeply involved with the queer community he was. Not yet anyway.

Aziraphale could tell it was an understatement, that Crowley didn't just ‘hear’ about it. "Is there... a term? A word for it?"

Crowley nodded. "Asexual."

“Ah. That makes sense." He smoothed over the fabric of Crowley’s pants and smiled softly.

Crowley stayed still for a moment, debating, weighing his options. Then he shuffled closer until his thighs lay over Aziraphale’s.

He took one of Aziraphale’s hands in his own, feeling the weight of it, caressing the skin.

Aziraphale stayed still. He didn't know what Crowley was planning, or well... judging by his slow movements it might be that he didn't know that yet. Either way, he wasn't worried Crowley would make a move on him, not anymore.

Crowley shifted again, pulling Aziraphale’s hands to his waist and straddling his thighs.

Aziraphale felt... something flutter in his belly. His hands tingled, he didn't quite dare to move them.

Abruptly, Crowley leaned in, burying his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck.

“Oh.” Aziraphale made a surprised noise. He wrapped his arms around Crowley and felt him shiver under his touch.

Crowley knew he would be embarrassed about this later. But for now, he didn't care. All he cared about was Aziraphale. Warm and soft and gentle and most importantly: all around him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed this please consider leaving kudos/comments! :D
> 
> btw if anyone wants to come talk to me about ace headcanons (or literally anything else) you can find me on tumblr @brokenfannibal


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